I love masks! Absolutely obsessed with them… Over the years, with exchanges and forages around unexpected haunts I managed to build an impressive collection.
Let’s see. My go-to mask is my relaxed-and-easy-going one. I wear it for my social engagements, cooking expeditions and random late evening walks. I adore my rare coral twinkly-eyed number intuitively worn in the company of bakery items and happy dogs. Rare so because the mask has a tendency to make me look totally slightly batty to the world.
My second most-used albeit the least preferred is my serious-and-yes-I-am-responsible one. At times I wish I had never found it, but life didn’t really give me a choice and I had to grudgingly add it to my collection. And boy! Was it exorbitant or what! It came at the cost of my sarcastic-but-mischievous masterpiece I had lovingly honed over time and now sits mortgaged on most workdays. A flirtatious one with golden trimmings, a firmly-determined piece and the classic oh-look-at-me-I’m-so-sympathetic also find themselves on the top shelf. And while I am working madly to get hold of a grim-and-angry mask, for the life of me I cannot locate it. The alternative I found sadly bears a close resemblance scrunching–my–nose.
My chest is nowhere full, but with time I will add and start mixing & matching those personalities. Just like playing with my wardrobe! Maybe borrow from someone once in a while. Or combine a few for the super-chic look that goes with certain situations. I even have a good mind to throw on an inappropriate one just for kicks. If nothing else works, I browse and get myself a new mask. As long as it doesn’t come at the cost of my soul, I am cool adding it to my rapidly expanding collection.
I have mastered the science of carrying my masks along without drawing attention to the bulk weighing me down. A skill that took me a while to develop but now I wouldn’t trade it for the world! Can you imagine being faced with your significant other, his ex-girlfriend, your hard-nosed manager and the yummy waffle stall at the same time? Well – I just imagined and trust me – that colossal set of masks nestling me is my lone hope for survival and sanity.
Addressing the elephant in the room, what of the face behind the mask? Well! It is absolutely flawless and concealed. The mirror is fogged with the reflections of the masks and the courage to to wipe it keeps eluding. It tries to convince itself that perfection is ideal and exposure will mar its beauty with scars, lines and abrasions. The conviction is failing even as I write this and my face desperately wants to breathe in the spring air. A smile blooms in reminiscence and earns a few wrinkles while thinking of the select few with whom the masks lay forgotten. Hopefully, a day will come when I am able to donate my entire collection to an antique museum – simply to look at and to learn from.
An Armchair Perfectionist 